


Requemtoir

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Out of Character, Romance, Sexual Content, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-24
Updated: 2007-08-24
Packaged: 2018-09-30 12:17:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10162856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: DH Spoilers. AU. Harry Potter/Merope Gaunt. When in limbo, Dumbledore told him there was nothing they could do, but Harry took the disfigured infant Voldemort into his arms anyway. Suddenly, history has dissolved, and Harry Potter is thrust into 1926, with an extremely pregnant Merope Gaunt as his caretaker, and a rising Dark Lord Grindelwald posing a looming threat.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Tom Riddle (Lord Voldemort), Albus Dumbledore, or any other character found within J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series. I did not write this story with the intention of slander, nor do I make any profit from it._

_Notes: A random idea that was dropped on my front porch._

_Pairing: Harry Potter/Merope Gaunt_

_Warnings: Spoilers for Deathly Hallows, AU, some language, some violence, etc., etc._

**I**  


The pitiful cries of the torture creature lying helplessly beneath the chair were like strikes of a blunt knife into his heart. Each wail brought a flinch to his pale features, each sniffle a tear he refused to let escape. Knowledge that he was to pay no mind to this … being made itself quite clear in his mind, but yet he was unable to keep his eyes from darting wistfully to the deformed infant that was so desperately in need of attention.

“There’s nothing to be done of it, Harry.” The soft voice of Albus Dumbledore seemed to provoke the infant into a bitter silence, and the deep, confused gaze of Harry Potter turned to the deceased wizard reluctantly. “It’s a redemption oh which we cannot interfere.”

“Redemption?” The raven-haired teen repeated softly, glancing over at the child once again. “A baby? Surely …”

“Harry,” Dumbledore interrupted firmly. “No. Lord Voldemort committed crimes for which he must pay. As I have said, you have less to fear returning here than he does. There is, unfortunately, no happy ending for him.”

These words drew a defeated whimper from the child, and on pure instinct, Harry abruptly stood. His mind did not register that painful sounds as those emitted by Lord Voldemort, but those of Thomas Riddle. Sounds of neglect that were far too familiar to Harry to just be ignored. Cries that went unheard, a yearning for love that went unfulfilled -- even rejected with a harsh sense of cruelty. Cries of hurt that would eventually lead to tears of rage, which would, in the end, lead them all back to where they stood right now.

A crossroads. A place of decisions. A temporary peace, where thoughts were unhindered, and destinies changed.

A place of new beginnings, perhaps even ones that had not even been considered.

“Harry,” Dumbledore beckoned again, softly, beseechingly. A weathered hand came to rest on his shoulder comfortingly. “Please.”

“Is he dead?” Harry inquired, ignoring the plea, nodding toward the infant. The hand on his shoulder tightened considerably.

“As dead as you are,” came the gentle reply. And Harry’s head cocked to the side, examining at first the twisted figure that was Tom Riddle, and then the scenery of Kings Cross that surrounded them. “Harry,” Dumbledore called one last time, his hand so tight Harry’s shoulder was beginning to ache. “You must decide.”

“If I should go on” The Boy Who Lived began in whisper, finally turning back to his mentor. “I will be with my family once more, but I will leave my friends to the monster that baby becomes.” He continued, unblinking. “But if I go back, I lose my family, and countless others who have died in the battle since I was struck by the curse.”

“Our decisions are never easy,” Dumbledore counseled soothingly. “But you must decide between one or the other.”

For a moment there was silence, in which eyes of Earth and Sea clashed with one another, blazing with equal passion and power. And then, as though on cue, Tom released a solitary, forlorn cry, breaking the concentration between the two wizards as tears fell from desolate crimson eyes to travel down a pale, noseless face. Without speaking, Harry turned from Albus Dumbledore for the first time, walking toward the child in unhurried steps, kneeling down so that he was in the infant’s line of sight, but not close enough to touch.

“Or is there another way?” He murmured as his eyes locked with those of a creature that had once been his sole enemy -- the eyes of the man who had murdered so many out of aversion. Now, as he searched the blood colored orbs that had once been inundated with hate, all he saw was what was reflected in his own eyes: confusion, pain, fear … and hope.

The tears continued to run, and the child twisted and squirmed uncomfortably, reminding Harry of the snakes they were both apparently fond of. He watched as the deformed face scrunched up in a grotesque manner, yet was far from repulsed as the wails began again. As though he were in a trance, his hands slowly began to move toward the pitiful form, gently lifting the baby from the cold ground, ignoring Dumbledore’s urgent warning, tucking him safely and comfortably in his arms.

“Shush, you,” he whispered soothingly, subconsciously surprised as the cries instantly ceased. “You’re alright now. That’s it,” he encouraged as the infamous snake-slit eyes stared up at him, tears slowing. “You’re safe. It’s alright.”

“Harry,” Dumbledore called, but his voice was different than the other times before. It was less hopeful, more weighted -- the same tone he had used when speaking to Draco that fateful night on the tower. Harry turned toward the elder apparition, Tom still held within his arms. “My dear boy, ever the hero. You have no clue as to what you have just done.” Blue eyes glanced toward the infant dubiously. “The child you hold in your arms is not Tom Riddle, but Lord Voldemort. The one who murdered your parents, friends, and countless others without a hint of remorse. Surely you are aware of that?”

“Surely everyone deserves a second chance, Headmaster,” the teen replied evenly. “And not only Vol-Tom, but others as well. The people whose lives he took, whose lives were affected by his mere existence.” Yours hung unspoken in the air, but both were aware of the implication. Dumbledore sighed.

“I cannot make this choice for you, Harry,” he admitted. “This is your Crossroads -- your life. But before you announce your decision, I will warn you.” And here, Albus Dumbledore’s infamous warm tone dropped to a chill; the hairs standing up on the back of Harry’s neck, Tom writhing timidly in his arms.

“Your life will be forever affected by what you choose. Should you remove Voldemort from this limbo, the life you know now can never be gained again. You shall never again see your friends, or your family. Whatever you have built for yourself, whatever you wished for your future, will be unachievable. Keeping Tom from traveling the same journey will be your responsibility. The path that lays before you, should you take that child with you, will not be easy.”

For a moment, there was a considerable silence, in which Harry looked away from his mentor’s eyes, and stared out into the foggy surroundings that was Kings Cross. Images of Ron and Hermione plagued his mind -- memories of their times together, of their laughter, their tears. Then he remembered the look on Mrs. Weasley’s face when she came to the realization that Ron, her youngest son, would be fighting against Lord Voldemort. He remembered the tremor in Hermione’s voice as she spoke of bewitching her parents, to make them believe that they were other people, and that they had never had a daughter. He recalled Ginny -- beautiful, wonderful Ginny -- and her twisted, lifeless form on the cool stone floor in the Chamber of Secrets. Her smile had been forever haunted by the horror she had witnessed that night.

The Marauders, who had been a tight and happy lot before Voldemort came into play. The friendship between his mother and Severus Snape. Cedric Diggory, Neville Longbottom, Mad-Eye Moody, Remus, Tonks, Teddy, his parents, his family. All would be spared if he were to take Tom from here. Not to mention Voldemort himself. If given a second chance, perhaps the murderous half-blood would never exist, but instead Tom Riddle, Jr., a happy boy who would not be raised in a loveless environment.

And though he would miss them all, suddenly, compared to what could be gained, his wants seemed so … insignificant.

“I’ve made up my mind, Professor,” he whispered softly after a moment. He did not raise his eyes to meet Dumbledore’s, but instead lowered them to focus on the snake-like ones of the child in his arms. Lord Voldemort. Tom Riddle. “I will take him from here. Another chance.”

Dumbledore, to his surprise, simply sighed, lowering his head in a reluctant acceptance that was all-too apparent on his wrinkled face.

“Then so be it.”

And then, without warning, Kings Cross Station was engulfed in an intense bright light. The child shrieked in horrific pain, Harry’s arms tightening around him protectively as his body was engulfed in painful fire. With one large, resounding crack, Kings Cross burst into a temporary purple explosion, and when the flames died down, there was nothing left in the limbo but the old wizard himself.

Glancing around the desolate area before him, a small smirk broke across the harsh expression, and Albus Dumbledore vanished from the ruined limbo with a satisfied pop.

**.T.**  


Leaning against a damp brick building in a dark London Alley, Merope Selena Gaunt groaned as she wrapped her arms around her seven-month pregnant belly, her long, lanky brown hair effectively hiding her pale, haggard face from view. People walked briskly on the sidewalk just a few feet from her, those curious enough to glance down the alley quick to lower her with scornful words. She took no notice of them, just as she took no notice of anyone or anything since Tom had left her, just four months ago.

Stumbling, she turned away from the sidewalk she had been heading toward, subconsciously discouraged by the hateful words, and used the wall to guide her back toward the dark section of the alley. If she were lucky, the cardboard box she had slept in the night previous would not have found another inhabitant, and she could seek refuge once again.

A sharp, small crack stopped her movements instantly, the sound of apparating a still fresh and painful memory in her mind. Fearfully, she whirled around to where the small sound had come from, only to have her eyes land on a much desired, dark haired, lean figure kneeling in the corner of the alley.

_“Tom?”_

_To Be Continued_  


_Well, don’t ask me, because I certainly don’t know! Haha. An idea that just entered my head and would not, under any bribing, go away and find another writer. Things will start to be cleared up in the next chapter. And those who have read my other stories know this, but to new readers, my first chapters are almost always short. They get much longer by chapter 3 or 4 (15k is my current record), so please don’t let the short length scare you off._

_Anyway, please do not forget to review. Those really are a bit of a confidence booster, and high confidence means more chapters, right? Heehehehehe… or not. But, please, feel free to click that button and leave your opinion._

_Now, I must be off. Other chapters to write, and homework to complete (ick). I’ll see you guys next posting._

_Later!_

_Me_


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